


Knight in an Ironed Raincoat

by Orita



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Getting to Know Each Other, High School, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 01:03:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15522639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orita/pseuds/Orita
Summary: Francis is bullied on his way back from school. Rescue comes from an unexpected place.





	Knight in an Ironed Raincoat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [red_bean_soup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_bean_soup/gifts).



Francis gazed out of the bus window. It was heavily raining, and the rain turned the mundane view of the small English town into a blurred, melancholy dream. It was always raining here, always cloudy and always grey.

A group of his classmates had gotten on the bus at the previous stop. They were now standing in the passage, chatting loudly and obnoxiously. Francis placed his backpack between him and them, trying to hide behind it and make himself as small a target as possible. It had been a long day, and he really didn’t feel like having to deal with them.

Only a moment after the thought crossed Francis’ mind, one of the boys turned his head in his direction, and the expression of vicious joy spreading across his face was a clear indication that he had recognised him.

“Hey, it’s the frog boy!”

Francis sighed as they all began calling out to him at once.

“Hey there, froggy, why are you hiding?”

“You too good for us, princess?”

Francis tried to shrink further in his chair, returning his eyes to the window and trying to drown himself in the soft music playing from his earphones. _Just ignore them and they’ll get bored and go away,_ he told himself. _Just ignore--_

The music was suddenly cut off as the earphones were violently pulled out of his ears. The leader of the group, a tall albino, was holding Francis’ phone like a trophy, and the others cheered as if it was some feat of incredible courage.

Francis knew that boy. His name was Gilbert, and he was an immigrant like Francis himself. The two used to be friends until one day Gilbert decided that hanging around such a loser was bad for his reputation. Since then he had consistently done his best to make sure his once-friend would have no friends at all. The reason for this hatred, if that’s what it was, was completely unknown and inexplicable to Francis.

“Hey, give it back!” he protested faintly.

The boys whistled as Gilbert flipped the phone towards them, presenting the lockscreen. “That your boyfriend, froglicker?”

“It’s my favourite singer.” Francis reached out his hand, trying to grab hold of his phone. “Give it _back_!” He wanted to say something clever and sharp, to put them all in their places, but all he could think about was how much he wanted to be away from there, alone and undisturbed.

Gilbert pulled it further away, raising it tauntingly above his head. “Come on then, come and get it.”

Francis stared at him, wide-eyed and uncertain, then at his phone, then back at Gilbert’s face, unsuccessfully trying to find a hint of mercy there. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to get in a fight. “Why are you doing this?”

Laughter, coming from all around him. “ _Why are you doing this?”_ one of the boys repeated in a high, ridiculously feminine voice with an exaggerated French accent. “Cuz it's fun, that’s why.”

“No, it’s because he deserves it, being such a pathetic faggot.”

Francis looked around. He _could_ call for help, maybe get the driver to intervene, but the mocking gazes of the six boys silenced his voice, and the words were stuck in his throat.

“Looking for your boyfriend, Franny? Is your knight gonna show up and--”

“Leave him alone!”

That was a new voice, and both Francis and the bullies immediately turned to look.

It was Arthur Kirkland, more commonly known as the headmaster’s son. Francis had seen him many times, walking around alone and brooding, but never talked to him. As always, Arthur was looking a tad too formal with his school uniform spotless and neatly ironed. Even his raincoat seemed to lack any wrinkles, and he had a book and an umbrella tucked under his arm. The headmaster’s thick-eyebrowed frown looked funny on a fourteen-year-old.

A few of the boys recoiled upon seeing him, but Gilbert simply laughed. “Or what? You’ll call your daddy and tell on us?”

Arthur nodded once. “Yes,” he confirmed flatly, “that is precisely what I’m going to do.”

The boys began exchanging worried glances. “You wouldn’t!” one of them called.

As if to prove his point, Arthur reached into his pant pocket with his free hand and fished out a large, fancy phone in a black leather case. He raised his eyebrows, giving the boy who spoke a sideways glance. “Wouldn’t I?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Gilbert called, “little Artie is just the guy to hide behind his daddy instead of fighting like a man. Come on, do it, you coward.”

Arthur appeared unmoved, besides his eyebrows, which rose even higher to unbelievably sarcastic peaks. He tapped his phone a few times, then turned the screen towards Gilbert. It showed a contact named “Father”, with the headmaster’s picture underneath. Arthur’s finger hovered above the _call_ button. “You want to repeat that on speaker?” he challenged.

The boys stared for a moment, then dispersed like a flock of pigeons, fleeing to the far side of the bus. Only Gilbert stubbornly remained.

Sighing, Arthur pressed the button and put the phone to his ear. “Hi, dad,” he said after a few moments of waiting, “ I’m calling to tell you that-”

For the first time he could remember, Francis saw Gilbert looking scared. His face, which was usually white as snow, was now ashen grey. At that moment, the bus came to a screeching stop, and the doors opened. Gilbert dropped Francis’ phone to the floor, then ran to the door and hopped off, disappearing in the rain and leaving his stunned friends behind.

“Who’s the coward now,” Arthur said gleefully.

Francis looked up at his saviour, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief and admiration. Arthur’s freckled face seemed as beautiful as that of a guardian angel. Slowly, he bent down and picked up his phone. The screen was cracked, but not badly. The singer on the lockscreen, in his tight leather pants and half-opened shirt, looked as cheerful as ever.

“ _Arthur? What happened?”_ sounded a voice from Arthur’s speaker.

“Just a moment,” Arthur replied, then covered the mic with his hand. He looked at Francis. “Do you want me to tell on them?” he whispered.

Francis shook his head quickly.

“You sure?” Arthur asked. “They deserve it.”

“No, no. It’s ok, really.” Francis didn’t want to be even more hated. Even if they got expelled, those kids could still find him outside of school and get their revenge. He shuddered. No, better not to risk that happening.

Arthur shrugged. He removed his hand and said: “I’m alright, on my way home. Just called to say that... uhh… I’m...” he looked at Francis again, uncertain.

“Tell him you have a friend coming over!” Francis whispered in sudden inspiration.

“I have a friend coming over,” Arthur repeated automatically to the phone, then blinked, realising with surprise what he had just said.

 _“A friend?”_ the voice sounded disbelieving. “ _Oh, that’s just great! What’s his name?”_

“Francis,” Francis said quickly, and Arthur repeated it to his father.

“ _That’s great!”_ the headmaster said again, sounding much more cheerful than Francis had ever heard him. “ _I’ll be home in a few hours, but you have the key, right? There’s food in the fridge and--”_

“Thanks, dad,” Arthur mumbled. “I’ll see you later.”

“ _Have fun!”_

Arthur hung up. Then he looked at Francis, seemingly shocked.

Francis gave a hesitant smile. Inwardly, he was screaming _what have I done what have I done what have I done!!!_ While outwardly he offered a hand for a shake. “Now you know my name…”

Arthur looked at it for a moment, then shook it firmly. “I’m Arthur… As you already know.”

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other, the silence stretching on until Francis noticed he was staring, and shook himself, letting go of Arthur's hand. “Thanks for saving me,” he said.

“Eh. It was the right thing to do.” Arthur awkwardly sat down on the free seat next to him. He glanced towards the group of schoolboys, who stood next to the bus’ front door, clearly wishing to be off as soon as possible. “I hope they won’t bother you again.”

“They probably will. It’s how they are.” Francis shook his head. “I don’t get it. He’s a foreigner too. With a stupid accent. And he looks different. Way more different than I do. Then why is he popular, and I’m...” He vaguely gestured at himself.

Arthur didn’t ask who he meant. It was obvious. “Because he’s mean, and you’re nice,” he explained. “Kids are evil and stupid, so they gather around the biggest and meanest idiots.”

Francis laughed with surprise. “But you’re not like that. And I’m not… I think.”

“Well, most kids then.” He paused, then gestured at Francis’ backpack as if only noticing it then. “Are you only now coming back from school?”

“Yeah…” Francis shuffled uncomfortably. It wasn’t his favourite topic, since it was another thing that set him apart from the other students. “I had my private English lesson.”

“Your English sounds good to me,” Arthur exclaimed.

“Come on, you’re just being nice. My accent is terrible.” He put emphasis on his hard, guttural R in _terrible,_ drawing it out.

Arthur made a face. “I guess… mmph, it could be better. But,” he crossed his arms over his chest, frowning indignantly, “even among native speakers there’s lots of different and weird accents. It doesn’t matter as long as you speak correctly. How long have you been in England anyway?”

“A year and a half or so.”

“That’s really impressive then.”

“Why, thank you”. Francis was somewhat overwhelmed by all the compliments. Since he arrived in England, all he had received for his English was insults and mockery, so he found it hard to believe that Arthur truly meant what he said. But the boy seemed extremely serious, even angry that others didn’t see the things the way he did. It was quite heartwarming.

Even so, France felt the need to divert the topic of the conversation from himself. “What about you?” he asked. “Where are you coming back from?”

Arthur lifted his arm, exposing the book held under. “Library,” he explained shortly, with a tone that indicated: _as always._

 _“_ What do you like to read?”

Arthur scratched his head. “I read lots of textbooks,” he admitted. “Lately I've been really into Paleontology. But I read some fiction too, when I get tired of learning. Mostly old novels.”

“Ah,” Francis said knowingly, “you're like, a smart kid.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively, but grew a little red at the tips of his ears.

“I read too,” Francis shared with a smile, “but mostly fantasy. I don't get reading about boring or depressing stuff, that's what real life is for.”

“It's not boring!” the blush now spread from Arthur's ears to his face. “I hate how everyone just assumes everything that has to do with learning is boring. What I’m reading about now, for example? It’s unbelievable how old this world is, and how different it used to be, with creatures that exceed anything in your wildest fantasy novels. Like the Carboniferous Period, which had giant insects that could reach several meters in length. How is a giant millipede boring?” he trailed off. “You must be thinking, ‘I can see why this guy has no friends’.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” Francis replied sincerely, “I was thinking how nice it is to see someone being so passionate about something.”

“That’s nice. I’m… not used to hearing that,” Arthur said, echoing Francis’ thoughts from earlier. His voice  changed, and suddenly Francis felt embarrassed. He looked away, back at the window, which was now covered in steam and used his finger to draw a little smiling face on it.

He jumped as Arthur leaned towards him without warning, heartbeat quickening in the thought that the other boy was moving closer to him, until he realised Arthur was simply reaching over his shoulder for the window. He was writing on it using mirror text so it could be read from the outside, and it took a moment for Francis to decipher. Together with Francis’ smiley, the window now read: ST. LAWRENCE SECONDARY SCHOOL FOR BOYS SUCKS BALLS!!! :)

Arthur rubbed his palms together with satisfaction and leaned back, admiring his work.

“Nice,” Francis commented, “does your dad know what you think about his school?”

“Probably,” Arthur shrugged. “Don't care.”

Francis placed a finger on the cold glass and added his own message to the world. BUTTS.

Arthur slapped his hand to his forehead. “Fucking eloquent.”

“Sometimes less is more,” Francis replied gravely.

They looked at each other, then burst out laughing at once. Arthur covered his face with his palm in disbelief, taking deep breaths in order to calm down, and his expression only made Francis laugh harder.

“I think we just went back to kindergarten,” Arthur said in a choked voice.

“At least we didn’t go back to the era of giant insects.”

“Oh god,” Arthur started laughing again, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes. “That would be bad. Oh, shit!” he exclaimed suddenly, unsteadily standing up. “Next stop is ours, let’s not miss it.”

Francis pulled his backpack over his shoulders and followed him, still giggling. The bus doors opened a moment later, and with them came the roar of the wind and the sound of heavy rain. Arthur opened his umbrella. He looked behind his shoulder at Francis.“You don’t have one?”

“No, I forgot it at home,” Francis called back over the noise.

“Come on under, then!” Arthur gestured hurriedly for Francis to move closer, and together they hopped off the bus, landing with a splash inside of a puddle. A moment later, the bus went on, its wheels splashing water everywhere and soaking them further. Arthur let out a string of curses, then began walking quickly. The wind blew the rain into their faces, making it fall almost horizontally, and Arthur had to hold the umbrella in front of them like a shield.

They walked quietly for a while. Then Arthur suddenly took a deep breath, seemingly bracing himself, and said quite quickly and excitedly: “you know, I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time, b-but I never felt brave enough.”

It took a moment for what he said to sink in. Then Francis felt a wave of warmth wash over him, beating the cold of the rainwater. “Really?”

“Yeah, y’know.” Arthur’s face was a nice shade of pink now. He was looking down at his own feet. “You just seemed pretty lonely, and I was, too, so... I figured we should hang out.”

“Oh,” Francis uttered faintly. He was unreasonably disappointed. What else was he expecting? Stupid.

“And also…” Arthur’s voice became very small, almost inaudible. “I think you look really nice.”

“Oh!” Francis said again, in a completely different tone. He felt his heart soaring in his chest,  and broke into a wide smile. “Thanks!”

“Anyway, I’m glad you invited yourself over,” Arthur mumbled, still not looking him in the eye.

Francis felt lightheaded, and not paying attention to his footing, stepped ankle-deep into a puddle. But even that didn’t remove the silly grin from his face. Despite the cold water seeping through his socks, the wind blowing his wet hair into his eyes, and the grey and cloudy sky, Francis was happier than he had been in a long, long time.


End file.
